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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324962">Forever Ours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendofspiderman/pseuds/friendofspiderman'>friendofspiderman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Ben Parker is an Amazing Dad, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Peter Parker, May Parker is an Amazing Mom, Orphan Peter Parker, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:27:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendofspiderman/pseuds/friendofspiderman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ben.” She turns to face him. “Can we do this?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” He says, not making eye contact. “I don’t know, I mean—they trusted us, and we said we would—said we could—but that was—I mean I didn’t think…” He covers his face in his hands.</p><p>“Didn’t think we’d actually have to do it.” May finishes. “We didn’t think they’d ever actually be gone.”</p><p>---</p><p>May Parker is unsure about adopting her nephew. Will Christmas magic provide the clarity she craves?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Parker &amp; May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker, Ben Parker/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forever Ours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>August 23<sup>rd</sup>, 2006.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Richard and Mary Parker are dead, and someone has to care for Peter.  </p><p>He was staying with Ben and May for the weekend when it happened, enjoying all NYC had to offer as much as a just-turned-five-year-old could be expected to. The news of the crash came on Sunday afternoon, as they were packing his bag to send him home. When the phone call communicated the unimaginable, Ben and May had to figure out how to tell a kid about to start Kindergarten that his parents weren’t coming back.</p><p>It was the worst day of all three of their lives.</p><p>As Peter’s godparents, May and Ben cared for their nephew in those first few days with all the energy and drive they could muster through their grief. They went through the motions of protecting a traumatized child as best they could—they brought all of his favorite toys and books from Richard and Mary’s suburban home to their NYC apartment, they learned how to secure a booster seat in the backseat of their beat-up car, they welcomed him into their bed after waking to his nightmare-induced cries.</p><p>Days later, the will solidifies their status as legal guardians, and Peter stays. Officially, he stays, even as the second guardian listed, Mary’s mother, Lorraine, protests the placing. </p><p>She calls the night the will is received, after Peter’s gone to bed. In Lorraine’s view, Peter will be better off with her in Stamford, CT, the suburb Mary and Rich lived in. She calmly argues that uprooting a child who is accustomed to the suburbs when he’s about to begin Kindergarten is cruel at worst and irresponsible at best. She insists they rethink their presumption that Peter ought to live with them before he gets too settled.</p><p>After the call, Ben retreats to the bedroom while May agonizes over the situation from the living room couch. Lorraine is a fantastic grandmother, and Peter adores her. She’s in her late fifties, in fantastic shape, and it can’t be denied that her location gives her more direct ties to the life Peter’s accustomed to living. Peter has also spent more time with her than he had with May and Ben throughout his five short years.</p><p>But May can’t stop thinking about Sunday afternoon.</p><p>Peter had grasped the seriousness of the situation more quickly than any PreK kid should ever be forced to. He’d clung to May and Ben with a vigor disproportionate to his small size and asked what would happen next, and though they weren’t certain of the answer, they vowed to keep him close all the same. They promised to look after him.</p><p>Maybe they shouldn’t have.</p><p>Ben returns to the living room and they sit in silence for a minute, until May’s thoughts force her to speak. </p><p>“Ben.” She turns to face him. “Can we do this?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” He says, not making eye contact. “I don’t know, I mean—they trusted us, and we said we would—said we <em>could</em>—but that was—I mean I didn’t think…” He covers his face in his hands.</p><p>“Didn’t think we’d actually have to do it.” May finishes. “We didn’t think they’d ever actually be gone.”</p><p>She remembers the day Rich and Mary asked them to be godparents. At the time, she’d thought the title would be more symbolic than anything else. How could she have thought to prepare for a tragedy of this magnitude?</p><p>But Rich and Mary had, and they’d chosen their brother and sister. They’d trusted them. The only question that remains is whether Ben and May trust themselves.</p><p>May’s not sure if she does. She hopes Ben has a clearer answer.</p><p>He uncovers his face and sits up straighter. May knows there would be tears there if he had any left to shed.</p><p>“We have to.” He finally looks at her. “I mean we have to, right? Not just legally, but—but <em>morally</em>, we can’t leave him.”</p><p>May feels the same way, or at least, she’d <em>thought</em> she did. But the more Lorraine had tried to reason with them, the more sensible she began to sound.</p><p>“But she’s right, he’s not used to the city.” She says. “We’d be uprooting him. His home is in Stamford, and his school, and his <em>life.</em>”</p><p>“He won’t be living in his home, though.” Ben points out. “And he hasn’t started at the new school yet, so he won’t miss that, and he’s barely five, May. I don’t think kids at that age get around much, so I guess he won’t miss the suburbs themselves...”</p><p>“I guess not.” She wonders if he can hear the tentativeness in her voice.   </p><p>“We’ve done okay so far, right?”</p><p>“We haven’t <em>done</em> anything,” May says, “except keep him alive for a few days! How will we know if we’re cut out for this—we chose not to have kids for a reason, Ben, how could we make this work with our schedules, with our jobs, with our trips, with this tiny apartment—”</p><p>“Well first off,” Ben interrupts, “we have to cancel the Charleston trip—”</p><p>“I <em>know</em> that,” May answers, “but I’m not taking about what we’re going to do in the next few weeks, Ben—I’m talking about how we’re going to make this work for the next thirteen years?”</p><p>“I don’t know how, but we can’t just send him off to Lorraine’s when—” He hangs his head. “It’s what they wanted, May. They asked us, and we agreed. We have to <em>try.</em> It’s our responsibility.”</p><p>May hates that he’s right. She hates that Rich and Mary are gone. She hates that, no matter what happens, Peter is getting second-best, and she hates that they have to be okay with that—that they have to <em>be </em>that.</p><p>“Okay.” She says. “We can try.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They come to an agreement with Lorraine. Peter will stay with them and be enrolled in Kindergarten in the city. If it doesn’t work out, and if he isn’t happy there, they’ll talk with him about moving back to Connecticut and living with her.</p><p>All parties know it isn’t an ideal plan—but when the ideal situation for Peter is an impossibility left in a happier past, it’s the best they can do.</p><p>So Peter lives in Queens now.</p><p>Most days, May’s heart aches so painfully she can’t think clearly. A month into his custody, she still finds herself picking up the phone to ask Mary and Rich for permission to take Peter to Coney Island—will a long day trip be okay with Peter’s parents? Does he like rides, and will the large crowds make him anxious?</p><p>She feels entirely inadequate when it comes to the daily grind of raising a kid. When Peter flat-out refuses to clean up his toys, she almost lets him watch a movie while she does the job for him. What right does she have to teach Rich and Mary’s kid about responsibility?</p><p>When separation anxiety leads him to cry every time she drops him off at school, she wants to skip out on work and let him stay home. What right does she have to make Rich and Mary’s kid cry?</p><p>She wonders if she’ll ever grow out of feeling like this attempt at parenting isn’t her place.</p><p>May wants nothing more than for Rich and Mary to be alive again, for Peter to grow up with his parents, for his childhood not to be defined by such an all-consuming tragedy. She wants her nephew to have the normal, happy family he deserves.</p><p>And then, when she’s all but exhausted herself grieving Mary and Rich, May’s thoughts gravitate toward a truth she is ashamed to confront head-on.</p><p>May had never asked to be a parent.</p><p>It’s not that she resents Peter—what sort of monster would hold a grudge against a five-year-old who became an orphan in an afternoon? But she didn’t <em>ask</em> for him either.</p><p>And though Ben had never wanted to be a father, he’s fallen into life with Peter so naturally, in a way that feels like a highlight of her inadequacies.</p><p>From the start of the legal guardianship, Ben is fixing PB&amp;Js, playing endless rounds of Candyland, kissing bumps and bruises, and even setting rules and boundaries for Peter that are fair and loving. “It’s weird, May,” he says two and a half months in, “I know it’s only been a few months, but I can’t remember life without him here.”</p><p>May <em>can </em>remember.</p><p>She remembers laying in bed for hours on a Saturday morning, when there was no little person to get up and tend to. She remembers staying late at work, prioritizing a promotion over a Pre-K program. She remembers traveling consistently and taking trips with Ben on a whim, because they had the money, and the time, and <em>each other</em>.</p><p>She supposes they still have each other, but it feels different now, because any communication between the two of them always comes back to Peter. Is he getting enough sleep around the nightmares? Is the grief counseling helping? Does he already need glasses, and how are they going to pay for this stuff when Rich and Mary’s funds run out?</p><p>It’s incredibly confusing that she loves Peter with her entire being, and yet, on late nights when she can’t sleep, she first cries over Mary and Richard’s passing, and then wishes for her old life back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Three and a half months in, May and Ben are forced to think more seriously about permanency.</p><p>They’re having dinner (Peter is drinking out of the green glass and eating off a green plate, like he has every night since May discovered his favorite color), when their nephew asks a completely innocent question.</p><p>“Am I going to stay here forever?”</p><p>May’s stomach drops as she looks to Ben, hoping he’ll know what to say.</p><p>“Would you like to, buddy?” Ben asks, laying his fork down to give Peter his full attention.</p><p>“I think so.” Peter says. “But when do I get to see Grandma Lorraine?”</p><p>“We’re visiting her soon,” May says carefully, “she wants to make Christmas cookies with you.”</p><p>“Okay. But I get to be with you and Uncle Ben on Christmas?”</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart. How does that sound?”</p><p>“Good.” He shovels food into his mouth. “I like it here.”</p><p>To May’s relief, Peter doesn’t ask more questions. She and Ben recap the situation at the kitchen table after putting him to bed.</p><p>“I think we really screwed this up,” Ben says, “we should have told him from the start that he was staying here for good.”</p><p>May is startled. “You think so?”</p><p>“Well, yes,” Ben says, “now he’s just confused. And did we really think this wasn’t going to be permanent in the end?” His brow furrows as he nods resolutely. “I think we need to tell Lorraine that he’s okay here—not just okay, I think—I think he’s thriving, May. We need to let her and Peter know how serious we are about this by adopting him.”</p><p>May is shocked only for a moment.</p><p>She knows her husband. She’s known he wouldn’t break his promise to his brother and sister. And if she’d been honest with Ben whenever they discussed the situation, when he’d asked what she really thought, he’d have known that she wasn’t nearly as certain about Peter’s placement as he was. But she hadn’t told him that, because she’s been uncharacteristically unsure of her own feelings—her usual emotional intelligence clouded by grief.</p><p>“May?” Ben’s studying her face. “What do you think?”</p><p>She doesn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t think it was a given he was staying.” She says quietly. “I thought we were feeling it out first. I want to do what’s best for him, and I guess I’m not as confident as you are that he’s thriving—or that we’re the right choice.”</p><p>“Okay.” Ben says, and there’s no judgement in his tone. “Okay, May. Do you think—do you think you this hasn’t been working?” He takes her hand.</p><p>“I guess I just feel like you dove in headfirst,” she says, “and I’m still playing sink or swim. Having him here may be right for now, but adopting him? I don’t know.”</p><p>He nods. “Okay.” He says again. “That’s…okay. Can we talk more about it? About why you’re unsure?”</p><p>“I’m not sure I even know what to talk about yet.” May admits, sliding her hand out of his to set her elbows on the table and cradle her head. “I need to figure it out in my own mind first.”</p><p>“Do you think you can think about it? About making this permanent? Because I realize how unfair this whole thing is, and I realize now how unfair I’ve been to <em>you </em>by not sharing my thoughts as often as I should, and I’m sorry. I am truly sorry I didn’t press for your real opinions from the start.” He sighs. “But he deserves closure, if we can give it to him. He can’t be in limbo much longer, you know?”</p><p>May knows.</p><p>“I’m thinking about it.” She says. “And I’ll keep thinking, okay? Just give me a little time.”</p><p>“Of course.” Ben says sincerely. “Of course, May.”</p><p>She lies awake that night with Peter’s “I like it here” replaying in her head. It’s silly, really, the way she’s clinging to that statement as a confirmation when she’s had no reason to expect that he <em>wasn’t</em> happy with them. It’s also silly how his words are equally reassuring and terrifying. Are they the final factor in making him a permanent member of her and Ben’s household?</p><p>She doesn’t worry about the ways that committing to Peter would continue interrupting the life she’d planned to live—mourning her past hopes and dreams feels pointless, now.  </p><p>Instead, she worries about whether or not it’s <em>right</em>. She needs to do right by Rich and Mary, and she knows that. But Peter had mentioned Lorraine at dinner, too. And May’s still not convinced that the woman who raised Mary isn’t the best woman for the job of raising his son, not when May’s attempts at parenting since August have felt barely adequate at best.    </p><p>She wishes there was a way to know for sure.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Two days have passed since Peter’s question, and the three of them are heading to Central Park for a planned day of holiday fun. Christmas is in two and a half weeks, and May can’t help but think that some holiday cheer might cure her uncertainties about the adoption.</p><p>A huge blanket of snow has serendipitously fallen the night before, and Peter is beside himself with excitement when he wakes to the sight.</p><p>“Uncle Ben!! Aunt May!! It’s a snow globe outside!!”</p><p>They bundle him up in a snowsuit and boots.</p><p>“Is this overkill?” Ben asks. “He looks kinda like Randy from <em>A Christmas Story</em>.”</p><p>“Does that make you ‘The Old Man?’” She smirks.</p><p>Ben puts on a dramatically shocked expression. “Are you calling me <em>old</em>, madam?” He asks as Peter tugs at his hand.</p><p>“C’mon, Uncle Ben, let’s go already!”</p><p>They head out the door, May grabbing the purse that’s become much heavier in the past several months due to the emergency snacks, mini first aid kit, extra tissues, and hand sanitizer she’s learned to stock. She grabs the digital camera, too, hoping there’s enough space on the SD card for at least a few captured memories.</p><p>The afternoon in the park is a delightful one, spent cramming in as many activities for Peter as they can manage between bathroom and snack breaks.</p><p>~</p><p>The three of them skate at the outdoor rink, May on one side of Peter and Ben on the other in a joint effort to keep him from nose-diving onto the ice.</p><p>“Aunt May, watch me skate! I’m doing it all by myself!”</p><p>They tighten their grips on his arms as he wobbles and exchange an amused look over his head.</p><p>~</p><p>They build a snowman, smaller than he ought to be and comically lopsided, but Peter is massively proud of the end result.</p><p>“Uncle Ben!! Let’s make him wear my scarf!”</p><p>Ben tucks Peter’s unwrapped scarf back around his rosy cheeks and gives the snowman the scarf around his own neck instead.</p><p>~</p><p>Peter smells roasted cinnamon almonds at the Christmas market, and May slips him a five dollar bill and encourages him to hand the vendor the money himself.</p><p>“Aunt May, they’re still warm!!”</p><p>“What do you say, baby?”</p><p>“Thank you!!”</p><p>May opens the wax paper cone for him after he unsuccessfully attempts the maneuver with mittens on.</p><p>~</p><p>Ben wants to do a snowball fight, and May teams up with Peter. They roll snowballs from their fort behind a line of pine trees.</p><p>“You and the kid are going down, Mrs. Parker.”</p><p>“No, YOU are going down, Uncle Ben. We have two on our team!”</p><p>Ben misses 90% of his shots. May can tell he does it on purpose.</p><p>~</p><p>May demonstrates how to make snow angels. Peter loves it until the snow makes its way down the back of his neck, and May avoids a meltdown by comically stuffing snow down her own collar.</p><p>“Aunt May, you are a crazy.”</p><p>But he’s laughing now, so it worked.</p><p>~</p><p>Nothing particularly dramatic happens. And yet, each moment reveals another thing May can’t afford to lose: Peter’s giggle, the warmth of his tiny hand in hers, the effort of working as a team with Ben to give him the best day they can.</p><p>It feels <em>right</em>.</p><p>The feeling continues at the end of the day when, once Peter’s in bed, Ben sits on the couch with his arm around May.</p><p>“Today was so special.” She says, resting her head on his shoulder. “I forgot what the magic of Christmas is like.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Ben smiles. “He was really having the time of his life, huh?”</p><p>“He sure was.”</p><p>May sits up and grabs the digital camera off the coffee table, then leans back and begins clicking through the day’s best images. They laugh brightly at the outtakes—a close-up of Peter’s Rudolph-red nose, an attempt at capturing a snow angel that photographed like nothing but dirty snow, and a blurry portrait of Ben and May taken by the budding five-year-old photographer himself. Every image feels like a perfect moment captured in time.  </p><p>“You know,” Ben says as they pause on an image of Peter holding a freshly-made snowball and smiling from ear to ear, “I’m thinking about this thing Rich and Mary used to say when Peter was a baby. They’d say when he was awake, they were exhausted and looked forward to his bedtime more than anything. But almost as soon as he was sleeping, they missed him.”</p><p>May nods. “I remember them saying that.”</p><p>“At the time I thought they were crazy,” Ben admits, “but I understand it completely now—I really get it.” He looks at the picture of a grinning Peter fondly. “I miss him so much.” He turns to May. “Is that weird?”</p><p>May kisses him lightly. “Not weird.” She leans in to look at the picture with him. “I miss him, too.”</p><p>She’s surprised by how <em>much</em> she does, and it’s easily the warmest feeling she’s had since before the accident.</p><p>She clicks through the photos a second time, slowly recognizing the misplaced expectation she’s been harboring, the months spent waiting for one special moment of revelation to show her that this was right—that she and Ben were doing the exact right thing by choosing to raise Peter.</p><p>But the moment never came, not even today. She can’t point to one event that might help her determine, once and for all, that Peter was their kid. He didn’t hurt himself ice skating and end up in the ER, forcing her to develop a protective, motherly persona. He didn’t use his piggy bank money to buy them Christmas gifts at the market as a symbolic action. He never told them he loved them with a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of a Hallmark movie child actor.</p><p>But she doesn’t need any of that anymore.</p><p>Her confirmation is in the way she and Ben held onto him on the ice rink, in the way they took turns guiding him through snow angels and snowmen, in the way he giggled at Ben’s dorky jokes and squeezed May’s hand tighter as they boarded the subway.</p><p>Looking back, it’s the way they’ve been doing this thing—this co-parenting their nephew thing—day in and day out for the past three and half months, with minimal pomp and circumstance, and yet with boundless love, sacrifice, and care. </p><p>She knows Lorraine is capable. But she also knows that Rich and Mary knew what they were doing.</p><p>May can miss her brother and sister and miss her old life while also embracing a new one.</p><p>She holds on to the camera as she stands and takes Ben's hand. They sneak over to Peter’s room and quietly open the door. His face, partially illuminated by the nightlight, resembles the angel at the top of their tree. They squeeze hands tightly before backing out of his room and heading for their own.</p><p>“He’s perfect.” May says as they sink onto their bed. “Everyone I know says their kid is the best, but it’s <em>different</em> for us. Our kid is <em>actually</em> the best. No contest.”</p><p>She hears no response and turns to see Ben’s face frozen in an awestruck smile.</p><p>“What?” She asks.</p><p>He looks mesmerized. “<em>Our </em>kid?”</p><p>“Yes.” May answers without hesitation. “Yes, our kid. We should talk to Lorraine.”</p><p>“May.” He shakes his head, taking her hand gently like he’s worried anything more will break her out of her spell and change her mind. “Are you really ready to do this? You’re absolutely sure? You’re not feeling pressured, or swayed by what I said earlier? Because I didn’t—”</p><p>“No,” she interrupts, “I’m ready. I’m absolutely sure.”</p><p>Ben’s eyes have welled up. “So he’s ours.” He breathes.</p><p>“We’re his people, but we’re not his parents,” May says, cautiously insistent, “we can’t ever be his parents. We can’t replace them.”</p><p>“We’re not,” Ben agrees, “and we won’t.”</p><p>“We can’t let him forget them.”</p><p>“We won’t.” Ben nods. “He won’t.”</p><p>“But he needs us.” May says.</p><p>“He does.”  </p><p>She laces her fingers through his, tears now forming in her own eyes. “He’s ours, Ben. Forever ours.”  </p><p>They embrace, the action infused with melancholy and joy in equal measure, both sniffling and laughing lightly as they break away so Ben can grab tissues from the nightstand.</p><p>May picks up the camera from beside them and begins clicking through the photos again, landing on an image of all three of them at the ice rink, taken by another skater.</p><p>She shows it to Ben.</p><p>“Once it's official, this would look great on a Christmas card.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>December 25<sup>th</sup>, 2007</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The breakroom fridge at May’s work dons a new addition: an image of a husband and wife in ice skates standing in front of a beautifully decorated evergreen, their hands on the shoulders of a tiny, bundled-up six-year-old boy, expressions of pure joy on all three faces.</p><p>
  <em>Merry Christmas from the Parkers</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben, May, and Peter</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! ❤ (If you liked it, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the Parkers' adoption of Peter as a choice rather than a situation they were forced into because Peter somehow had no other living relatives!)</p><p>Merry Christmas!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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